


Kismet

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M, Reunions, Wistful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:36:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing Bill walk by is like something out of a movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kismet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romanticalgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/gifts).



> Birthday ficlet for L. ILU. ♥
> 
> Based on these pictures from Travie's Instagram:  
> [One](http://instagram.com/p/dVJAWXKXRf/#)  
> [Two](http://instagram.com/p/dVKNdrKXT2/#)

It was like a fucking movie or something. 

Travie looked up from the bikes, looked out the window of the shop, and there he was, walking down the sidewalk with that mix of confident and awkward he always had, like he owned the place but was apologizing to the people currently using it for getting in their way. And it was like... violins. Swelling guitars. The bass starting to throb.

"Your mouth's open," Tim said, glancing up from his phone. "What's up, man?"

"I know that guy."

Tim followed his gaze and blinked. "The white boy in the vest?"

"Yeah."

Tim looked back down to his phone. "So go say hi to him."

"Can't."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."

"That's Bilvy Beckett, Wicked. I've told you that story."

"That's your Beckett boy?" Tim stared out the window again, then smacked Travie on the arm. "You get out there and say hi to him. Give him a fucking hug. Life's too fucking short for this bullshit, Trav, and you're fucking choking on it. Go."

There wasn't really any reason for Travie to always do what Tim said. But he did anyway.

He got to the sidewalk just as the light changed, just as Bill was taking a step forward. "Hey! Hey. Bill!" He took a deep breath and used his chest voice, projecting down the sidewalk like it was across a stage. "Beckett!"

Bill missed his step, stumbling forward and looking over his shoulder. A flash of heat went through Travie's chest--more than heat, wildfire and lightning. He felt it all the way to his fingertips. Bill's hair was all different now, cut short with a baby pomp in the front like a duck's ass, but his eyes when he looked back, wide open in that sweet fucking face of his--

That hadn't changed at all. That was like suddenly Travie was a kid again, following Pete across a parking lot pre-tour to meet the new babies in their piece of shit van.

"Beckett," he said again, blocking the sidewalk to stare at this man with his baby boy's eyes. "Bilvy. Hey."

"Travie?" Bill sounded startled, bewildered. Maybe some people got that way when they saw ghosts. "Wow, I didn't--I didn't know you were in New York. I thought you were in Miami."

"I moved back up this summer. A few weeks ago, I guess? A month. Something." Travie tried not to let his eyes wander, but they did of their own free will, over that damn vest and t-shirt, some fucking necklace, that body that was still gangly as shit but had finally put some meat on its bones. Product of being a daddy, maybe. Being his own man. "You look good."

"So do you." Bill looked up from his own appraisal, and Travie shrugged. "No, you do. You look..." Bill hesitated, then gestured, and another ghost ran through Travie's chest, that wide delicate hand, those long fluttering fingers. "You look healthy."

Travie cleared his throat carefully. "I run now. Work out and shit. More of that, less of other stuff."

"Well. It's working for you." Bill smiled a little, hesitant and awkward. "It's been a while."

"Since the anniversary show. Two years, I guess?"

Bill's smile faded, and it took Travie a minute to remember why. "Not quite yet, but close."

Travie tried to recover, to make it light again. "You seeing Gabey while you're in town?"

"I sent him a message. We'll see. My schedule's pretty tight." 

"Blowing up the solo world."

Bill laughed, the sound a little forced. "Not exactly. Not like you."

"You gave that a listen?"

"It was all over the radio, Travis." Bill met his eyes again. "But yes, I did buy it. And it was great. If a little hung up on your ex."

Travie didn't look away. "I've always been bad about that."

Bill still blushed the same, too, bright red reaching all the way up to his hairline. Travie couldn't help it; he reached out and brushed the back of his fingers over that pretty, warm skin.

"Trav," Bill said softly.

"Let's take some pictures for the kids, Bilvy."

"Right. Right. I can do that." Bill cleared his throat and stepped closer. "Give the Internet some cheap thrills."

Travie lifted his phone and snapped the picture. "Speaking of cheap thrills..."

Bill's eyebrow went up. "Yes?"

Travie hit the button again. "Yeah, you know what I'm saying."

It was a shame the picture took before Bill started giggling. "You're awful."

"I'm just saying," Travie said, trying not to break down laughing himself. "If you can fit it into your tight little schedule..."

"Absolutely terrible." 

Travie took one more picture, just of Bill's face all lit up like that. Not for the Internet, not for the kids. Just for himself.


End file.
